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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490859">Shoulder Kiss</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trollmor/pseuds/Trollmor'>Trollmor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gentle Kissing, Other, and a shoulder rub, arcane order soft moments, look even ancient demi-gods need a break sometimes, skrael and gentle manipulation, skraelroc, soft fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:42:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trollmor/pseuds/Trollmor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Skrael kissing Bellroc's bare shoulder</p>
<p>That's it, that's the entire plot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellroc/Skrael (Tales of Arcadia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shoulder Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>”Come sit for a moment.” There is a gentle insistence in Skrael’s hoarse voice. Lately there has been something <em>frantic</em> in the way Bellroc worked. If it is a self-imposed punishment because they lost the battle with the boy wizard – <em>for now</em> - or a deep need to cover what they viewed as failure with a bandage of victory, Skrael does not know - but he is loath to see them torture themselves. No victory in the world is worth harm to Bellroc, even the slightest – he has always known it, but the battle at Killahead Bridge highlighted the truth of it sharply, and since then he has… well, perhaps the best word would be ’<em>hovered’.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He is sitting on a broad rock shelf, the black stone naturally formed into something resembling stadium seating.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”Your back to me, please.” He gestures to the space between his knees. Bellroc shifts where they stand, clearly restless and skeptical. He likes to think it is more than duty that makes them hesitate. If he has read them correctly this is one of the few areas they are uncertain of how to proceed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”What is this, Skrael?” Almost defensive…but <em>intrigued</em>, he thinks. Shoulders back, chin raised – <em>always ready</em> – uncertainty covered by layers of impatience. How rare for Bellroc to be uncertain of anything, but this subtle shift between them seems to have thrown them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Not Skrael, no longer. Once it confused him, but he has since regained his footing. But he is treading carefully over this hallowed ground.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”Humor me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The wooden eyes turns skyward, but they do seat themselves as requested. They shift their arms this way and that, and having them squeezed to their sides does not seem to appeal to them <em>at all </em>– Skrael watches in fond amusement as they finally settle in with their elbows resting on his knees.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He carefully unclasps their feather cloak and drapes it next to them both. This is one of the few times he has had the opportunity to examine the straps that holds the rest of their armor together – at least up close – and he runs his fingers over the bindings across their shoulders, the ones holding the eyes in place. He will not simply undo them, effectively blinding them, so he gives them a gentle tap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”Will you remove these for me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It is a testament to the trust between them that there is not a moment of hesitation. Bellroc undoes them as another might take off their shoes, placing them in their lap so that they are facing themselves. And him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Clever.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiles down, giving them a quick wink – delighted when Bellroc ducks their head and the wooden eyes shift to the side with a sharp clack.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The remaining straps he can shift to the side, and does.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their muscles are tense, tight as a clenched fist.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”As amazing as it is to watch you work-” He runs his palms over the ashen skin – his own temperature adjusted to a balmy slightly below room. ”-you have done too much of that lately.” Thumbs dig into the strained muscles, pushing along the taut lines and coaxing them to relax. At his words he feels Bellroc tense again, draw breath to protest – and he gently blows a small gust of cool air across their neck, watching in fascination as the skin prickles and can all but hear their stuttering exhale. Should he feel bad for robbing them of their words? The most he can muster is a slight twinge for not feeling any regret whatsoever – and what’s more, only the contrary.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He continues until he can feel the muscles relax somewhat and the rigid shoulders droop. The elbows on his knees drop too, fingers curling around his legs as they shift closer. He adjusts his grip and works harder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”Surely a few days of well-deserved rest is not <em>the end of the world</em>”, he murmurs and gets a huff in response. One of their reluctant chuckles that makes his chest constrict.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”Will you also stop for a few days?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He knows them enough to know the real question is ’<em>will we spend those days together?’</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pauses, dipping down to press a gentle kiss against a bare shoulder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>”Of course”, is the simple reply as his hands resume their work. Bellroc’s fingers is digging into his legs, and he makes no attempt to hide his smile from the wooden eyes in their lap.</p>
</div>
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